


23. By The Fireplace

by YlvaUllsdotter



Series: SPN Advent Calendar 2018 [22]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Apple Pie, Dean x Reader, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Implied Smut, Reader Insert, SPN - Freeform, Whiskey - Freeform, dean winchester x reader - Freeform, dean winchester x reader established relationship, spending time in front of a fire, spnadventcalendar2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 12:58:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17121815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YlvaUllsdotter/pseuds/YlvaUllsdotter
Summary: In a room above ground, there’s an actual working fireplace. You set up a cozy indoor picnic for you and Dean.





	23. By The Fireplace

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [@notfunnydean](https://notfunnydean.tumblr.com/)’s SPN Advent Calendar. December 23.

You had found the room during one rainy afternoon while the brothers were off hunting...something or other. Bored with reading, you had gone exploring and stumbled into this room. It was one of the few above-ground rooms, the windows set with thick panes of spelled glass. Empty but for a torn cardboard box, it had one thing that piqued your interest: a fireplace.

It had taken some time to set the room up the way you wanted it since you could only work on it when you were alone in the Bunker, but it was finally ready, just before Christmas. The cleaning alone had taken weeks, and there was still no real furniture due to the simple fact that you were unable to lug the armchairs up the stairs. You had found an old bearskin rug, head and all, and spread it in front of the fireplace. The guard was as clean as you could get it, and perfectly matched the andirons you had collected from flea markets and garage sales. 

Dean was out on a last minute supply run before Christmas, that you may or may not have sent him on just to get him out of the Bunker. Sam was busy with season three of Game of Thrones, and Castiel was away on some business or other. So you would have Dean all to yourself in this cozy little room that you had made into a private retreat for the two of you.

You had put the apple pie in the oven barely twenty minutes after Dean had left and now it sat on a platter in front of the fire. It had taken you a little time to figure out how to get the fire going, but you were nothing if not resourceful. For a proper rom-com date, you supposed you should have had wine, but since neither you nor Dean liked wine, you had gone with a bottle of Blue Label that you had paid through the nose for.

By sheer luck, you looked out the window just as the sleek black Impala rolled along the access road to the Bunker and you hurried downstairs to the kitchen.

“Here’s your eggnog, Y/N. Not sure why you needed it, but there you go. Anything for my girl,” Dean grumbled teasingly, setting the bottle on the counter before pulling you in for a hug and kiss.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever, Dean Winchester,” you quipped back and nipped at his lips. “C’mon, I’ve got something to show you,” you added, taking his hand and pulling him with you.

“Oh, I love surprises,” Dean grinned, clearly expecting something specific.

You pulled him with you up the stairs and down the hallway, until you could push open the door to your private little haven.

The fire was the only light in the room, crackling soothingly behind the fireguard emblazoned with the Aquarian Star. The light glittered off the glass eyes of the bear’s head, and warmth from the fire had filled the room. Next to the rug sat the platter of apple pie, two forks, the bottle of whiskey and a couple of tumblers. 

“Wow. We have a fireplace?” Dean’s eyes roamed the otherwise empty room.

“Apparently,” you smiled and pulled him towards the rug.

“You did this for me?”

“Of course. This can be our special place, where we can come to be alone, away from all the people,” you replied softly, knowing how much Dean still resented the new hunters coming and going in the Bunker that he considered his home.

“You know me so well,” Dean mumbled against your hair, having pulled you in for a hug.

Both of you lost track of time that evening, just enjoying each other’s company in the light from the fire until it had burned down to embers. And once the pie was eaten, and the bottle more than half-empty, hands began to wander. If that bearskin rug could talk...


End file.
